


With their hearts laid bare

by pixiedurango



Series: The Arya Trevelyan Files [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Love, Post Revelations, Relationship Problems, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedurango/pseuds/pixiedurango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya and Blackwall still on their way to be a couple again after the events of "Chronicles of a dead man"</p>
            </blockquote>





	With their hearts laid bare

**Author's Note:**

> I promised awkward sex on their way to be a couple again…
> 
> Now look what happened…

„Inquis... Arya.“ Surprise in his voice but a smile makes his way up into his eyes as it curls slightly his lips. The smile leaves as fast as it had appeared. She hadn’t been in here since...

Blackwall tries to stop himself from finishing that thought. It still floods his mind with guilt, thinking in shame of how he had left her here. Without a word while she was sleeping. After he had fucked her. As if she was a tavern girl who means nothing but a few hours of fun.

_No, Black... Rainier! Stop that!_

But the fact that she has forgiven him does not make his feeling of guilt disappear. Finally, he is able to force his thoughts away. Still trying to get used again to the name he still hates even though it’s supposed to be his own.

He hastily continues to clean up his workbench which prevents him from looking into her face.

As usual, Arya Trevelyan is not impressed. Comes closer and breathes a soft kiss on his cheek before she swings herself on the now clean again workbench casually letting her long muscular legs dangle. The familiar scent of caramel lingers in the background but the smell of a merry evening in the tavern is more prominent. Smoke in her hair and wine and well-seasoned stew in her breath.

„We missed you at the inn.“ A gesture easily including all Skyhold. Yet she does not explain further, but he has an idea and even though they are his friends and comrades, too, he still feels not appealed again by the idea of being social. And he is not sure if he’s already back to be able to spend a night at the tavern with the people he disappointed so much.

She has rosy cheeks and her eyes are shining in the flickering light of the fireplace. She’s not drunk, not even tipsy but in the cheerful mood, she gets into after one or two ales. He can tell this from how she talks and from her looks. But she rarely gets drunk anyway so it would be an odd exception if she was this time.

„I have no desire for company tonight.“ _Fuck! Why he never finds the right words?_

„ _Oh_...“ the smile fades and her eyes darken in an instant and she is already about to slide down from where she just placed herself.

„No! My lady!“ he hurries to put the mess of his words right. „I did not mean... The Herald’s Rest... was what I was... people, you know? _Maker's balls!_ Other... people. Not you!“

But the damage seems to be done already.

To describe Arya Trevelyan’s voice as neutral would be flattery, cold just an accurate observation. Her arms cross tightly in front of her chest and she slides one leg over the other and her foot, dressed in dark, soft leather that reaches up her leg a good part above her knee, is moving in a restless nervous motion up and down.

„Basically, I am here to inform you about your new assignment.“ She changes subject and hides behind Inquisitor’s stuff. To hide how hurt she is, no matter how desperate he tries to make up for his careless words which he has not even meant the way they sounded.

But he can be stubborn and butthurt, too.

„You could have had delivered a note in order to do so.“ All defensive now as she seems not willing to take his apology, not seeing how much he actually tries. Tries all the fucking time!

„I _could_ have, yes,” she replies. „But I missed you and wanted to see you so I thought it might be a nice idea. Maybe I was wrong.“ She sounds tired, all the strength and energy her voice usually carries is gone.

He wants to simply drag her into his arms and carry her upstairs and lay her down and... _what?_ His mind can’t decide between _fuck her senseless all night until she screams his name_  and  _watch over her sleep and softly caress her face in the moonlight._ But it doesn’t matter anyway since both still seems impossible. Now after he had spoiled it all by letting thoughtless words slip and here at the hayloft of all places even more than anywhere else.

He realizes that she’s still waiting for a reply.

„It is, my lady. Arya. A nice idea, I mean.“ He wants to reach out for her hand but both of them are still hidden somewhere deep down in her armpits as she keeps on holding all her limbs tightly crossed. „I am happy you dropped by. Really.“ Diplomacy is not his weapon of choice but he is willing to try. Distraction, in order to take her thoughts elsewhere, away from disappointment and anger. „Tell me about the assignment. Where are we going this time?“ And it seems to work.

She tries to resist. Keeping up the disappointment but soon a little smile curls the corner of her lips. Barely to see in the flickering firelight. but it’s there he is almost sure of it when she finally speaks again and he is grateful she decided to simply answer without bickering on his earlier poor tries on conversation.

„Dragon hunt. We are heading for all the known nests and will slay them one by one.“ Her eyes begin to sparkle again over telling this and he sees her relax, her arms untangle from each other and her leg finally sliding out of the crossing position as she keeps on talking about the planned venture.

Now he can dare to relax, too. „So, Bull and Sera then?“ he can imagine worse company and he is grateful for this assignment. She nods. And lets him take her hand and have him step closer. „I must admit, I’m glad to hear we are off the keep again, soon.“ He boldly reaches out to take her other hand, too. Standing way to close now between her dangling legs. She’s sitting a bit taller on that workbench so he has to look up to her. He likes that.

„Why so?“ and he can hear how her voice softens and going just a tiny bit darker.

He frowns and shrugs. „Fewer people talking. Behind my back or even straight into my face. Orlesian pricks prying on me to make me punch them first.“ He mutters. „But this I can handle.“

„So there are other things you can’t?“ One hand leaving his to slowly trail through his hair. It is growing out again and soon it will be as long as it was... before. Much more streaks of grey in it now but he finds it suits him and obviously she likes it, too. He can't help but silently adore the dreamy look on her face as she softly caresses him.

„It’s easier when we are out there.” He tries to explain. „I know what my duties are. Fight and protect. And you are... _closer_.“ He’s not sure she’ll understand. „You are less the Inquisitor and only... _one_ tent _away_.“ He tries.

But Arya shrugs. Unimpressed.

„This seemed to be not so much of a help the last few times we were out there together.“

She’s right. Of course, she is.

He sighs and his shoulders drop. „I’m sorry.“ Not able to look straight up to her face. This talk slowly moves into a direction he’s not sure he likes very much. Or would be able to handle right now. Reflecting what he wants and what he actually dares to do.

Her soft touch on his chin makes him finally gaze up. „Don’t be. We are still healing. _But…_ “ She hesitates. Looks into his sad, tormented eyes. Forces herself to carry on but her voice sounds weary and sad. „Are you still sure you _want_ to be with me?“ Her question lingers between them and it feels as time slows down and covers them in a dark breathtaking blanket. He realizes that she holds her breath while she waits for his words to reply.

He would be a liar to say he never considered it. Making an end to this relationship. It would be the easier way, he realizes. Despite all the heartache and pain this would inflict on both of them. Facing his fears. Fighting his guilt. Feeling worthy again. He is still struggling every day with it. And it seems to never get any easier no matter how much time goes by. But he simply can’t. Because leaving her would take away the only light that keeps him going.

So slowly he nods. He will never take the easy path again. Because he wants to be here. With her. Yet he has no idea, how.

„Now and forever, Filly.“ Hoarse and barely to hear while she exhales in relief.

Blackwall reaches up until their lips finally meet for a kiss. Slow and soft, exploring and promising they melt into each other. Do not stop for a long time. Hands wander. Over cheeks and necks, down their backs. Oh, so innocent as if they are all new to this. They kind of are after all.

They have shared kisses already on their way back to each other, tonight feels different.

He realizes that now he maybe can be brave enough to ask for the next step. „Come with me upstairs.“ He pleads. „I fear all courage will have left me by the time we make it into your rooms.“ He knows what he is asking for and he instantly feels her stiffen in his arms. _She_ is the one who was left behind here and _he_ is the one who has abandoned her back then. He needs to make up for this.

Arya is fighting her own demons, her face shows it. There are reasons she had not visited him in his workshop where he hides now most of the time when they are at the keep. Did not show up here even after they had come to terms after the gruesome events he has inflicted on her.

But now she finally nods. Biting her lower lip as to admit she is frightened and insecure, too. The mighty Inquisitor, bold and never afraid of anything looks like a terrified little girl. But she nods.

„I’ll go where ever you take me, love.“

_Now or never_ he tells himself as he lifts her up from her seat. Holding her close, one arm under her knees, the other one steadying her back. He rushes up the stairs to the hayloft. Like so often before. In another life.

 

Their makeshift bed untouched as she left it that day in the morning after she woke up alone. The fur spread out for them to lay comfortable, the woolen blankets crumpled to soft piles at the side. Even the almost empty bottle of good old red they had shared that night is still standing there since no one had been here to care about and put it away.

He lays her down as gently as he is capable of in his bliss. Their kisses have become fierce and wild. Hungry and anything but tender. They have missed each other for far too long to hold back and savor the moment.

He knows what to do. How to please a woman. Her. As he did so often before. He knows well what she likes and what she loves. And yet he has no clue at the same time, his brain seems to refuse to work.

The clasps of her vest snap open with almost no effort. He does not care much about her tunic, instead, he’s already fumbling on the laces that close her breeches. He finds her boots in the way as he tries to pull off the light brown buckskin from her legs. More clasps and laces and he gets impatient as his fingers won’t work as neat with such things as usual. Breathed curses slip as he can’t open the buckles fast enough.

„Let me, love.“ She sits up but her hands are not less trembling as she finally gets rid of the thigh high boots and continues right away with her breeches and pulls her tunic over her head in a swift move. While she is busy with her clothes he takes the opportunity to take off his own boots, tunic, and breeches. There will be no more delay tonight - they both seem to have silently agreed on that while one piece after another lands carelessly on the floor. It’s not the night for sweet talk and whispered signs of love and affection either. Instead, breathless gasps and barely suppressed moans as they kiss and touch.

They hold each other as if they would drown just the moment the let go of the other one.

Arya wants to say something but does not dare. Frightened, a wrong name might slip she stays silent and tries to relax. He knows what to do with her, she tells herself, so she should just lay back and let herself be carried away by his knowing hands and other skills. But it seems harder than it used to be. She simply can’t let go and just feel.

Something’s not right. Arya feels it all in a sudden. His thoughts wander, she can sense it and his attention seems to be anywhere but here. Both they are overly careful with each other trying to pretend everything’s normal both know nothing is. She tries to let her hands wander over his body. Explore soft skin, silky hair on hard muscles. To dive further into the feeling but he won’t let her. Not by telling her with words but by kind of wiggling away.

_Fine._

She’ll let him his way.

He touches and caresses. Knows where he has to, to draw a reaction from her. Knows how to please. He tries. But something’s not right.

The realization that his body does not react the way he is used to, hits him hard and it makes him desperate as feelings of guilt wash over him. He had been able to please _himself_ just by thinking of her. Even after all that happened. And not only once. During all those lonely nights when she had left him at Skyhold to recover. So many nights he finally had fallen asleep after finding relief, his hand still tight around his cock, with a last peaceful thought on her and how much he missed and loved her and how much he longed to be back with her again. Now, that his dream is about to become true again he simply _can’t_. Because his _bloody_ cock betrays him by refusing to get hard. Not being able to please her, now that he finally has the chance to do so?

Impossible.

Despicable.

Shameful.

The more he thinks, the more it haunts him, the less is happening. It does not even come to his mind that a skilled lover like him could easily come up with with at least a half a dozen ways to please a woman, but he already is way too much blocked by his self-loathing to even think about anything else but his own failure.

„What’s wrong love?“ she finally asks. A bit breathless nevertheless but far from the bliss she would be in by now if everything was the way it used to be.

He shakes his head, unable to give a proper reply.

_Maybe if he only tries harder..._ „Give me a moment, Filly.“ He finally mumbles. „I’ll be ready for you in no time.“

Arya nods. Kisses. Holds. Waits.

She thinks about offering kind assistance, dismisses the idea as she realizes that she already had fallen out of the mood as she feels him flustered and nervous in all his frustration over his body’s defiance.

He touches himself in order to get more than half hard as he is right now. Tight grasp. Efficient moves. This is not longer about pleasure and love but about just making it _work_. To prove himself. „Maker, what’s wrong with me!“ Resignation in his voice, making clear there’s no way for her to make it any better no matter what she would say or offer to do. Finally, he stops trying when he realizes that nothing would work for him tonight.

A sting of frustration, but she keeps it for herself. There would be a time to address it and talk it over, but for sure not now. She knows men. Better than people usually assume. Only few know the entire truth of her past and how she earned her bread. Sometimes when dancing alone did not fill her belly.

Yet this is different. There is the love she feels for this man and this is enough reason for her to decide that she will not tear him apart by insisting on taking this any further now. „Come rest.“ She hears herself say while she is already pulling on one of the woolen blankets still piled up at the side to shield them against the night’s chill that is lingering in the half open hayloft. „No need to force anything tonight.“

Her words barely help but he obeys. What else can he do? „Hold me, Arya.“ He pleads. „I’m so sorry. I’m... _useless_!“

She draws him closer, lets him cover her, slings her arms around his muscled back, breathes him, savors his scent she missed for so long, the weight and the warmth of his broad frame all around her.

Nothing is wrong with this moment anymore.

He is here.

With her.

„You are not.“ She replies and the peace she just feels pours from her words. „We are tired, love. And out of practice.“ She even giggles a bit as she tries a few soft kisses on his face. „We’ll get there. For now, just let us be as we are.“

„But...“ he wants to tell her. Explain, justify, give her all the nonexistent reasons he has no clue how to put in words. She silences him with kisses. Needs no explanations. Just him. Close. And with no fear he could disappear again.

„Just stay. Be here, when I wake up. Give me the hope to carry on with all this. Thom!“ The name feels strange and clumsy in her mouth, still painful and inconvenient in his ears.

„I will. As long as you’ll have me.“ He breathes, his head buried in the crook of her neck, unable to look into her eyes.

„Forever?“ she asks. Well knowing that in times like this, forever easily could be a few days away.

And he, too, wants to believe that there is hope. For them. For the world, they live in.

„Forever!“


End file.
